


Lightning Over the Mountain

by r0adhog



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Age Difference, Choking, Cunnilingus, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Oneshot, POV Female Character, Reader-Insert, this honestly reeks of daddy issues and tbqh i'm sorry but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24544441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r0adhog/pseuds/r0adhog
Summary: The reader, a 20 year-old artist, sets out to draw in the Jasmine Dragon, but is extremely distracted.
Relationships: Iroh (Avatar)/Reader
Comments: 24
Kudos: 73





	Lightning Over the Mountain

The young Earth-bending artist had decided she needed a change of scenery if she really wanted to draw today. Armed with a small wooden box full of charcoal sticks, she laid out a long white sheet of paper on the table of the tea shop closest to the door. This one was the best one in Ba Sing Se according to her mother. The artist put her box on one end of the paper and the lid on the other to hold it down. She sat down herself, flattening out her dress and removing from her bag several other smaller pieces of paper. Each one was a square the size of a coin. She stuck the edge of each one under the bottom half of her box. On the papers were small, intricate drawings with a thin shiny varnish over them. She looked at each one carefully before she decided what she wanted to do.

The artist lifted a piece of charcoal out of her box with her bending skill, and carefully, lightly, dragged it across the paper as she slowly threaded her fingers through the air, creating careful but precise strokes with the soft rock. As she was drawing, a young man, the server at the tea shop, approached her and looked down at her work. He barely smiled at her, making direct eye contact.

“What can I get you, miss?” he asked flatly.

She looked up at him and smiled politely. “A hot cup of tea and a cold cup of water with a spoon, please.” She was very, very quiet, if Zuko wasn’t paying full attention he probably wouldn’t have heard her.

He nodded and she did back to him in thanks, then he turned to make his way back to the front counter, stopping at his elder superior. He gestured to the girl and looked to him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone do that with their bending before. She’s drawing. You should go look, uncle. You’d probably like it.” he said, continuing back to the kitchen area of the shop. Iroh looked to the girl in question. 

He had seen people do things like that before, plenty of times. Her body language, the delicate way in which her hands wove through the air and her good posture, made her seem so focused. Her clothes had charcoal dust smudged over them. They didn’t look new. She was wearing a long, straight dress that tied up on the side, a vest over it, and a long apron. Her hair fell in front of her and obscured her face but Iroh could tell she was wearing glasses because the light from outside had been reflecting off of them onto the wall in front of her. He watched her move the stick up and down, marking the paper with shaky diagonal lines. He realized they were shaky on purpose as he kept watching. She was drawing a mountain with snowcaps from the looks of it, a jagged form with a smooth top.

Zuko, or Lee as he is now, started to make his way back to her table. Iroh put his hand on his shoulder making him stop.

“For the drawing girl?” he asked. Zuko nodded. Iroh took the tray from him and made his way to her table himself, stopping in front of it. He waited for her to acknowledge him, but after a couple of seconds, he cleared his throat. She snapped her attention to him, embarrassed that it must have taken so long for her to notice. She smiled and said “Thank you.” in a soft, quiet voice and took both cups, setting them down on the lid to her box. Iroh took a seat across from her and set the tray against the leg of his chair. Confused, the girl looked up at him to see what he was doing.

“Do you mind if I watch?” he asked. The girl shook her head and continued drawing. She moved her stick of charcoal back into her box, in a segregated section that was almost entirely smeared back. Half of it snapped off and moved back to the cleaner part. 

The half in the dirty part crushed itself into a fine powder. With her hands the girl took the spoon in her water cup and put some water in the crushed charcoal, and with her bending she mixed them together. She reached into her bag to bring out a paper tortillion, dipped it into the charcoal, and back onto the paper. She smudged the lines she’d made, up and down, making a very interesting texture. It wasn’t chunky, at all, it was almost like ink that had been drybrushed. 

Iroh raised his eyes in intrigue. He thought this was a very interesting way to use her materials. He was transfixed on this girl’s careful, skilled hands. 

The girl set her tortillion down and took a sip of her tea, humming softly in satisfaction. She picked it back up and resumed, etching away at the rough, sharp edges of her mountain.

“Were you born here?” Iroh asked her. He felt slightly uncomfortable just watching her. She nodded. She tucked her hair behind her ear revealing a long, thick, pointed coil in her ear that looked like it stretched it. 

“When did you come here?” she asked.

“My nephew and I came here several weeks ago on a refugee boat.” he explained, cupping his chin and leaning on the edge of the table that wasn’t occupied by paper. He waited for her to look back down, which she did, and put his finger on her cup warming it for her slightly.

“You already have a business going after that short amount of time. Good for you, honestly.” she said, not breaking her gaze from the paper.

Iroh shifted back a little, leaning on the back of his chair and getting more comfortable. “Why not just use ink?” he asked. “It must be easier than the charcoal. Cleaner than it, too.”

“I like the way it looks. It’s more soft and controllable, less permanent.” she said. She grabbed the spoon and delicately put more water in her reservoir, then dipped into it with the tortillion and started making barely visible strokes across the background of the drawing. He watched her, very interested. Iroh had his fair share of artistic endeavors but he preferred to use ink when he did, which wasn’t very often.

“What are these little paper squares under your box?” he asked.

“A bit nosy, are we?” she remarked, still not taking her focus off of the paper.

Iroh softly chuckled. “Yes, apologies.”

“They’re thumbnails. I don’t need them right now, so you can pick them up and look at them if you want to.” she said. The sheer strokes started making large, round forms with jagged white lines connecting them. Iroh wondered what they were supposed to be. He did pick the small pieces of paper up and laid them out in front of him, facing him so he could see them properly, on the unoccupied table. Each one was a small drawing of a mountain. The one in the middle looked just like what she had been drawing.

“Oh, I get it! It’s a thumbnail because it’s the drawing you’re making, but the size of your thumb. That’s adorable!” he excitedly remarked, putting his thumbs down on the table in front of him. The girl smiled at that, her dimples showing on her cheeks.

“I take it you don’t talk to many artists?” she asked him. Iroh thought that for someone so quiet she seemed awfully bold.

“No, I’ve gotten my portrait done several times but haven’t for many years.” he said, folding his hands together on his gut. The girl kept drawing, silently. She filled in more and more areas with her tortillion by hand until she’d gotten to the point that what she was drawing was fully recognizable. It was a thunderstorm, the negative space in the jagged white lines were lightning bolts. The mountain itself looked rather lackluster compared to the sky at that moment. 

The girl reached into her bag and pulled out a small dish with a lid. She set it on the table. She poured the water from her cup into the dish and rubbed her tortillion along the bottom then set it aside on the lid of her box, taking her teacup. She hummed in curiosity at the warmth of the cup, she assumed it would’ve gotten cold by now. She took a sip and hissed at the heat. She knew it would be warm but didn’t expect it to be that hot. Her tongue and throat ached as she swallowed her scalding tea, not wanting to spit it out in front of the man who made it. She sucked in air to soothe herself.

Iroh pretended he didn’t see her struggle, thinking it would make her feel more comfortable. He stayed quiet and still, waiting for her to continue drawing, but she didn’t. She waved her hands over the paper, blowing cool air over it.

“What are you doing that for?” he asked her.

“I have to let the paper dry before I can continue or the water will make it come apart.” she explained, continuing to fan the paper. 

“What’s your name?” Iroh asked.

“[Y/N]. You’re Mushi?” she said. 

Iroh, or Mushi for now, nodded in confirmation. He pointed behind them towards the counter at the front, where Zuko was standing and stacking empty cups. There was only one other patron left. “That’s my nephew Lee. He’s a little younger than you, I believe.” he said. “How old are you?”

“20. My birthday was a month ago or so.” the artist said, continuing to fan her work. Several hours had passed since she’d gotten started. It wasn’t like her to dawdle like that, even if she did have the pressure of being watched. She thought, maybe, talking was slowing her down. She sighed, leaning on the table with her elbows and cupping her chin in her hands. It was getting dark soon, though, she knew she would have to pack up and leave soon but her drawing wasn’t ready for varnish yet.

“Is something the matter?” Iroh asked.

She shook her head, sighing. “You’re closing shop soon and I can’t roll this up to get on the train, it’ll smudge terribly but it isn’t ready for me to paint varnish over top yet.”

“Look around you.” Iroh said, gesturing towards the rest of the shop. She did. The entire shop was empty save for the two of them, the sun almost set and the shutters in front of the door half-closed.

“Oh… I’m so sorry, sir, I’ll leave right now.” The artist rose from her chair and started to pick up her belongings. He grabbed her wrist. She froze.

“You don’t have to, you know. I can light a lantern for you and you can stay as long as you need to, be my guest.” he offered her, and she slowly sat back down.

“Thank you so much, that would be very kind of you.” she said, putting her dish back on the table and her thumbnails in a neat pile on the lid of her box. She reached into her bag and pulled out a smaller drawstring bag of coins that clinked together as she moved it, and started to open it. Iroh, again, grabbed her hand. She looked up at him confused, he shook his head.

“I can’t take your money. You’re a friend now.” he said. The girl smiled at him, a bit embarrassed and flushed.

“Thank you again, sir. If you want, you can keep this to hang in your shop when I’m done with it.” she said.

“That would be wonderful. Make sure your signature is nice and big.” Iroh beamed, he started to stand up and make his way to the counter, grabbing a lantern and striking a flint onto the wick, lighting it. He set it down on the chair he’d been sitting on. “When you’re ready to go I’ll be here. Come see me before you do, so I can lock the shop up.” The girl nodded in thanks and he went to the door behind the counter, slinking into the doorway and out of sight. After he’d left, she heard his footsteps above her.

The artist, now free of distraction, set back to work. She tapped the paper with her finger to test if it was dry enough to keep working, and it was, so she did. She used her bending to take a charcoal nub from her box and create deeper, rougher strokes along the lines she so delicately made before. She scraped and etched at her work for another hour or so, before she decided she was satisfied with it and added some finishing touches. She drew a thick square outline around her drawing and wrote her signature next to it, nice and big like Mushi told her to. She set the nub back in the box lightly, blew the dust away from her paper, and grabbed a small glass bottle and thick brush from her bag. She painted over her drawing with the glossy plant-derived varnish, sat back, and admired her work.

She decided she’d go tell Mushi that she’d finished and see if he would keep her company until the varnish dried. The artist packed away most of her materials save for her box, since it was holding the paper down, and made her way to the door behind the counter. She knocked on the door.

“Let yourself in, [Y/N].” Mushi’s voice called from above. She let herself in, walking up a very pristine stairway to the upper floor. There wasn’t very much up there. A large ornate rug similar to the one in the dining room under some cushions surrounding a low table, a couple of counters with a kettle on one, one other door that was closed, and a roll-out bed cushion. The room didn’t feel very empty. It was quite small so it was very cozy, but was uncomfortably warm for the artist. Mushi was seated at the table playing a game with ceramic dominos by himself. She sat down next to him leaning back on her palms.

“What are you upto, sir?” she asked him in a voice that seemed more confident and louder than it was before. She started to remove her vest, uncomfortable in the warmth of the upper floor.

“Patience.” he said.

She dropped her vest to her elbows and examined his dominos. She never played with or touched them before, so she was very curious. She waited for a minute, still, before Mushi said something.

“The name of the game, it’s patience. I suppose I should’ve just said that to begin with.” he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. She giggled at that, laying back and crossing her hands behind her head to cushion her fall.

“I’ve just about finished my drawing. In an hour or so it should be dry enough to touch or hang up.” she said.

“That’s good. You came to keep this old creepy man some company? That’s very sweet of you.” he said, bringing his gaze back to his game.

“I don’t think you’re creepy. You seem very nice. I’d trust you.” she explained, watching him and listening to the dominos clack together.

“Thank you, but acts of kindness don’t necessarily mean that someone is safe to be around forever. A beautiful young woman like you should be more wary of strange men.” he explained, waving his finger at her as if to scold her. She scoffed and propped herself up on her elbows.

“I’ll take the compliment. However if I was supposed to feel threatened by you, you weren’t exactly doing your job right. If anything you made me a bit attracted.” she explained, not fully realizing what she had said.

“Attracted? Is that so?” he raised his eyebrow at her in question. He didn’t expect a woman so young to be allured by him, but he guessed he was wrong.

She nodded, patted his back, and returned to leaning on her elbows. He responded by putting his hand on her thigh, softly but firmly. She looked up at him curiously, not really knowing what he would do. He slowly moved it upwards an inch or so, looking to her face to see if she was okay with it. She flushed but didn’t look away, putting her hand over her face to hide it. Mushi chuckled and rubbed her thigh, inwards and then outwards. She involuntarily spread her legs a little in response to his touch, loosening up her form.

“Are you sure you want this creepy old man to fondle you?” he asked once again, this time verbally. He started to retract his hand from between her legs. She nodded quickly and put her hand over his, guiding it back to where it had been before. He quietly chuckled to himself at how needy she’d been for this, and wondered if she’d been watching him just as much as he’d been watching her several hours earlier.

“Why don’t you be a good girl and unbutton this for me?” he asked her, pointing to the thread and button clasp in the middle of her dress. She did, quickly, with inexperienced but eager hands. She unbuttoned the bottom half for him and made to do the top half too, but was interrupted by Mushi shifting so he was on top of her, his hips and knees situated between her legs and leaning forward on his palms so he was looming over her.

“Is this what you wanted all along, pretty little artist? I can see that coil in your ear, you must have a, ah, thing for pain… Don’t you?” he taunted her, leaning down over her body. She was incredibly embarrassed and flushed to boot, all she could do was nod eagerly and swallow her pride. She wasn’t totally sure what she wanted right now, but she knew she wanted him to touch her. Everywhere. Mushi shifted his weight so he was sitting upright and began unbuttoning her dress where she’d left off. He did it slowly, carefully, it felt like he was teasing her. It must’ve taken him a full minute to undo two buttons. She huffed impatiently.

“Being impatient isn’t going to get you what you want.” he said, cupping her chin and leaning in close to her face. She grabbed his face and pulled him down more, closer and closer, and gave him a very gentle and quick kiss. She knew she wasn’t very good at or experienced with kissing, and she wasn’t totally comfortable with the idea of Frenching just yet. So, she gave him a bunch of short, soft, pecks. Mushi leaned with his elbows above her head and kissed her back, deliberately rubbing his crotch against hers. She could feel that he was incredibly hard, she rubbed back against him and put one of her hands in his hair, twirling the thick, grey strands between her delicate fingers.

With her free hand, she moved to untie his belt. She fumbled with the knot on his hip for a second before his tunic fell open to his collarbone, she quickly made her way to the button that was holding it back and undid it.

“Eager, are we?” he teased, sitting back upright. His torso was totally revealed to her, she put her hands on his chest and marveled at his physique.

“You’re really…. Cute. Beautiful.” she stuttered, her light touch gently trailing down his stomach to his pelvic area. As she was getting close to the hem of his pants, he began unbuttoning her dress again, which forced her to move her hands. She put them above her head on the floor with her palms facing up, she was in a very submissive position, really. As Mushi undid the button in the middle of her chest, her breasts from lack of pressure provided by her dress fell a little to either side. 

Mushi continued unbuttoning her dress, going even slower than before, but she didn’t complain because he only had two more buttons to undo. She tilted her head backwards for him when he got to the top button so his hands would have more room, and after he unbuttoned her fully and either half of her dress fell, he put his hand over her neck firmly but didn’t squeeze. He could feel her swallow as she locked her gaze with his, pleading with her innocent eyes for him to do more. 

He squeezed lightly just to see how she’d react, and boy, did she. She bucked her hips against his, exhaling hard. Mushi brought this other hand down between her legs, slithering his hand under her leggings and down, down, down. He kissed her cheek, then under her ear, her neck, nipping at her soft, young skin. She moaned softly, putting her own hand over the one grasping her neck. He could feel the buzz of her vocal cords through her throat. He wasn’t choking her by any means though she knew he totally had the power to, if he so wished, that is.

“Do you let a lot of men touch you like this, or am I special?” he asked her, continuing to kiss down her neck. She shook her head.

“You’re special. I’ve only ever done this a couple of times.” she sighed, feeling him pepper the sensitive skin on her collarbone with kisses. He nipped at the area softly, which drew a quiet moan out of her and made her wrap her legs around his waist. She shoved her hand between their hips, groping around for Mushi’s bulge. She felt it, and decided maybe she wanted to tease him back. She lightly ran her finger up and down his length through his pants, circling at the end of it and repeating. He sighed into her neck, sucking her skin with the goal of leaving a mark on her. Mushi moved his body back a little, away from her hand, so he could rest his head on her chest. She cupped his cheek and she looked at him, smiling softly.

“You’re a very handsome man, and I can tell you’re gentle by choice. Don’t call yourself creepy. If I didn’t want you to I wouldn’t have let you touch me.” she said, admiring how beautiful the scene in front of her was. He smiled back at her, shifting back more so he was sitting and moving his hand to the side of her ribcage, gliding his rough hands higher until he’d been partially cupping her breasts. He put his hands over them, avoiding touching her nipples directly, squeezing and rubbing them in up and down motions. She moaned softly and her entire body de-tensed, she became mostly limp under his touch. He sucked his lip in, swallowing a curse under his breath.

She locked eyes with him and put her hands over his forearms. He stopped moving his hands, which made her pout a little. She was as flushed as could be and he could feel how seriously wet she was through her leggings.

“Will you let me touch you?” she asked, putting her hands firmly on his chest and running her fingers over his nipples. He smirked and looked down, not fully knowing what to say. He moved her hands away and grabbed her firmly by either side of her ribcage and lifted her, moving her body back two or so feet. She was a little surprised to be man-handled like that, she wasn’t used to it and didn’t expect it. Mushi lowered his body down and back a little, then tugged at the lacing of her leggings. She untied the lacing and lifted her hips, helping him take them off. She was so excited for whatever was going to happen next, she wanted his touch more than anything at the moment.

He got back a little, hoisting her thighs over his shoulders and leaning into her, giving her gentle kisses over the insides of her thighs. She was breathing heavily, a little nervous to be touched in the way he seemed like he wanted to. He licked the inside of her thigh close to her pussy, slowly, making pointed eye contact with her. She melted under his touch, moaning quietly and putting her hand over her mouth. He furrowed his brows at her and reached up to move her hand away.

“Don’t be embarrassed, you’re okay. I want to hear you.” he said quietly, bringing his hand back down between her legs, gliding his middle finger delicately against her taint and upwards, stopping where he could feel wetness. He tilted his head at her to nonverbally ask for permission, and she nodded very eagerly.

“Please?” she begged. He could feel her insides pulsating just from having his finger situated at her entrance. He slowly pushed his finger into her, watching her face intently. She bit her lip hard, exhaling sharp. She moved her hips back against him, taking as much as she could get. Mushi smiled at how desperate she was for him, humming to himself contently. He kissed her lips, dragging his tongue over her slowly but avoiding her clit, teasing and torturing her. He moved his finger in and out of her slowly, waiting for her to give in and ask for more. The gentle scratching of his beard against her, his other hand barely touching her, rubbing circles into her thigh, drove her crazy. She let out a long, unstifled moan, a sound that was music to his ears. She grabbed his bun, firmly but not pulling too hard.

He dipped one more finger into her, moving his wrist back and forth faster than he had before, but still pretty slowly. His tongue lightly drew circles on her lips but never anywhere closer to the center she so desperately wanted him to touch. He could feel her twitching around his digits, tugging his bun harder, hearing her breath get shallower and more and more desperate for him. He licked her clit experimentally, drawing out a squeaky and excited whimper.

“Can you, uhm, go a little faster... please?” the artist stammered, barely audible.

“Please, what? Don’t disrespect me.” Mushi snapped, thrusting his fingers into her hard. She whimpered louder not fully expecting it and asked “Can you go a little faster, please, sir?”.

Mushi chuckled heartily, ending in a sigh. He did what she asked. He licked up and down her pussy, swirling his tongue flat against her clit, and pumped his fingers in and out of her much faster. She rolled her hips against him and moaned, more like a growl than anything. He kept at it using the same rhythm and motions. He shrugged his free arm out of his tunic and returned it to resting under her bum.

“Sir… Will you please, please fuck me?” she sighed and let go of his bun, looking back down to him. He had been staring at her face, the expressions of pure ecstacy she’d been making. Mushi sat upright, completely shrugging out of his tunic and letting it fall on the floor behind him. He grabbed a cushion and handed it to the artist, who gratefully put it under her head.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” he asked, unlacing his own pants. She nodded eagerly and tugged at his waistband impatiently, wanting it as quickly as she could get it. Mushi swatted her hand away, not very hard but enough to make her get the message and retract it.

“The more impatient you get, the more I’m going to drag this on. Is that what you want? To be tortured and edged until you can’t stand it anymore?” he teased her, pulling his pants down himself revealing his cock. It was a lot bigger than she’d expected, with a thick, grey bush above it.

“I’m sorry for being so impatient.” the artist pouted, “But I do really want to please you… You’ve barely let me. May I, sir?” she asked, putting her hand flat on his pelvic bone on the outskirts of his bush.

“I think that I want to be in more control right now, actually.” Mushi said, grabbing his cock and rubbing it up and down her crotch, grazing both of her holes and back again. She was so wet that him rubbing her like this made a gross wet clicky sound. She pouted, again, and exhaled a soft, breathy moan.

“Please, sir?” she begged again, wrapping her arms around his neck. He sighed and gave in, having only put it off as a benign punishment. He positioned himself at her entrance, pulling her hips a little closer to him. She wrapped her legs around his hips to anchor herself, burying her face in the crook of his neck. He slowly slid himself into her, grunting into her ear and steadying himself with his free hand on the floor beside her. She whimpered at the sensation of him filling her up, pulsating around him. It felt a lot bigger than it looked, and the whole length of it didn’t exactly fit inside of her. As the tip of his cock pressed against her cervix her legs twitched and she sunk her nails into his back, unused to having any kind of pressure there, letting out a quiet moan that ended in her exhaling out hard.

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” Mushi asked her, a little unsure if he wanted to continue. He was a bit apprehensive about hurting her even if he wanted nothing more than to keep going.

“No, it doesn’t hurt, it’s just really big. I promise I’m okay.” she breathed out. He began kissing down her neck again, on the other side, running his hands over her collarbone and pushing on the small red marks he’d left on her earlier. She hissed at the pressure on those tender spots, digging her nails into his back a little harder.

“Please, please keep going.” she whispered into his ear, her voice cracking a little.

“How badly do you want this?” he teased her, shifting his hips in a grindy motion. She gasped at the sensation, pulling him even closer to her.

“Really badly. Please, sir.” she begged, peppering the side of his face with sweet little pecks. He sighed, smiling to himself in satisfaction. He pulled his hips back and forth agonizingly slowly, grunting in her ear with each one. She cupped his cheeks in her hands and kissed him, pulling back and leaning her forehead against his. She locked eyes with him and giggled, smiling ear-to-ear, leaning in for another kiss. He met her in the middle, speeding up his thrusts into her and resting his chin against her shoulder. She moaned softly into him, running her hand through his hair with her palm flat against his scalp.

“Fuck,” she cursed, “Fuck, fuck fuck…”

“Language.” Mushi snapped, snaking his hand up her chest until he’d had it around her neck. He didn’t squeeze, not yet.

“I’m sorry.” she whimpered, biting her lip. She was enthralled by him choking her earlier, she hoped that if she annoyed him enough he’d be rougher with her, giving her the treatment she wanted so badly.

His grip tightened, not fully choking her but definitely impairing her breathing a little. “You’re sorry, what?” he growled, hastening his pace and starting to breathe a bit more heavily. He was thrusting into her deeper than he had been before, audibly smacking his thighs against hers.

“Sir… I’m sorry, sir.” she stammered, putting her own hands over his and smiling at him through her shaky breaths. He held onto her throat and kept fucking her, rougher and faster. She started shaking after a couple more strokes, her legs twitching and her grip on his hair tightening. She moaned deep, feeling Mushi’s other hand drifting downward to rub her clit. She whimpered pathetically, her heart beating hard, racing, out of breath from both being choked and from being so close. She arched her back under him, feeling her orgasm coming on. Mushi tightened his grip around her throat again, keeping the same rhythm that had brought her to this stage. Her walls tightened around him as she gasped for air, forcing him to go slower, he felt himself getting closer and closer too, seeing her unravel under him in a pathetic little puddle of sweat.

She came, hard, clinging to him for dear life. He let go of her throat, leaving a red mark where his hand had been. He stopped for a moment still inside of her, kissing her neck and down to her chest while she caught her breath. She giggled at the scene in front of her again, feeling incredibly lucky to be being touched by such a diligent man. Once she did regain her breath, though, he kept going. He resumed his fast, hard pace, making her moan out loud and rake her nails down his back. She was overstimulated, but loved the feeling of it. He rubbed her clit again, slowly, a much different rhythm. He grunted and moaned, gritting his teeth as he grew closer, feeling the artist under tighten around him again, this time she hung onto him with her legs much tighter, shaking like a leaf. He slowed down a little, his own heart beating hard and fast for her, cum starting to pump out of him.

“Please, please, please,” the girl, overstimulated to the point of tearing up and riding out her own orgasm gasped quickly, feeling him fill her up. He finished with a loud, shaky and breathy moan, locking eyes with her and smiling sweetly, breathing heavily, moving his hand off of her clit and tucking her hair behind her ear, the one with the coil in it, and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. She was so tired, practically limp but her legs quaked uncontrollably. Mushi sat upright, falling out of her and pulling his pants back up, redoing the lacing that held them tight. He reached behind him and grabbed the girl’s leggings, folding them and setting them on the floor next to her. She sat up, leaning back on her palms.

Mushi got up, making his way to the roll-out bed pad, laying his head on the pillow.

“Not bad for an old man?” he joked, patting the empty space on the cushion next to him. The artist giggled at that, getting up shakily and laying down next to him.

“Perfect, for anybody.” she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Are you tired, sir?” she asked, pulling the blanket from the end of the pad towards him. He nodded and looked down, a bit embarrassed. 

“Yes… I’m not as quick to recover as you probably are. I need to rest for right now, please stay with me.” he said, hooking his arm around her. She put her hand over his, sighing dreamily.

“Yes, sir.”

The following morning, Mushi woke up by himself. He stretched his back, cracking his neck and fingers. He got up, put his tunic back on, and went down the stairs. The shop was empty, he noticed. He was a little sad that the artist had gone already, he was hoping that she would stay. However, at the table she’d been sitting at, he found a beautiful, glossy drawing of a mountain during a thunderstorm, with a snowcap. He thought it was gorgeous, but noted that it hadn’t changed much since he last saw it. On the table there was another piece of paper, held down with a rock. It had an address on it and a heart in the bottom left corner, drawn in charcoal.

**Author's Note:**

> this is probably the most self-indulgent thing i've ever made


End file.
